“How did you see it?”
She studied Logan, then figured she’d gone that far, so what the hell. “As some guy trying to use his position to impress me so I’d be flattered by his attention. It didn’t and I wasn’t. But I guess his intent came across enough that I’m surprised to hear he’s a married man. Or, more to the point, that he’d so openly flirt with someone right in the middle of city hall.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. With him.”
She gave Logan an amused look. “I’m going to have to continue to do so if I want to get this project underway, so it is what it is. I’ve worked in a male-dominated field my whole life, with men who have the kind of off-the-charts testosterone levels it takes to do what they do and who think nothing of wielding their masculinity like the proverbial Neanderthal club they think it is. Trust me, Ted Weathersby was not a problem in that regard. It was more . . . uncomfortable . . . because I am new to town, He is in a place of power here, and I didn’t want to inadvertently step in the middle of something I didn’t understand. Or piss off anyone who would then complicate my job. So I just sort of . . . skirted around it. And him.”
Logan drained his coffee, then set his mug down. “He lays so much as a hand on you, you have my permission to handle him the same way you’d handle any of those other Neanderthals you worked with.”
She smiled, amused at the edge to his tone. Amused and, if she were being honest, turned on a little. Maybe more than a little. “What makes you think I didn’t welcome those other Neanderthals’ moves?”
He arched a brow. “Really?”
“Well, I could point out that you picking me up and tossing me on your bed yesterday didn’t exactly seem to turn me off.”
He closed his eyes. “I walked right into that minefield, didn’t I? I’m too tired for lose-lose debates.” He opened his eyes, though, and she was surprised at their intensity. “So I’ll just say this. If you don’t want Ted Weathersby breathing all over you, or if he ever does anything that makes you feel even slightly uncomfortable, you have the permission of the chief of police and the owner of Pelican Point to handle him however you see fit.”
“Thank you,” she said, meaning it. “Not so much for the permission, but for trusting that I could take care of myself.”
Logan pushed his chair back and stood, stacking his dirty dishes and mug so he could carry them to the sink. “What I didn’t say was that if I ever see him making you even remotely uncomfortable, I also have permission to handle him however
I
see fit.”
Her eyes widened a bit, and she tried not to wriggle in her seat. “Most of the time that Neanderthal attitude is not effective.”
He paused in his stacking. “Most of the time,” he repeated.
“Most. But I think I just realized that it’s not so much that the caveman club is being wielded”—she smiled up at him—“but more a matter of which caveman is wielding the club.”
Rather than look annoyed, he surprised her by chuckling. “You’re the damndest woman I ever met.”
She stacked her dishes and stood as well. “Yeah, but in a good cavewoman or bad cavewoman kind of way?”
He took both stacks of dishes and put them right back on the table, then stepped around it with that surprising grace and speed of his, and, before she could react, much less guess his intent, he’d hoisted her up and over his shoulder. “In a ‘I’m discovering I really like a good bad cavewoman’ kind of way.”
After her shriek of surprise at his little maneuver, she was too busy laughing to do more than thrash her legs and beat ineffectively on his broad, caveman-like back as he carried her out of the kitchen and headed toward the stairs.
“You’re exhausted,” she told him. “You need to sleep.”
“I seem to have gotten my second wind.” To prove it, he took the stairs two at a time, wrapping strong arms around her legs and waist to keep her from bouncing.
He climbed on the bed as he slid her off his shoulder so she landed flat in the middle of it. He followed her right down.
Since it was exactly where she wanted to be at that moment, she didn’t waste time pretending otherwise. She slipped her arms over his shoulders, around his neck, and pulled his mouth closer to hers. “You know, every time we end up here, the longer it’s going to take for me to finish that report.”
“Oh darn.”
“Yesterday you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”
“Yesterday, I think we’ve established, I was an idiot. Or I started the day as one. I’d like to think I’ve redeemed myself somewhat since then.”
He closed the distance between his lips and hers, but just as she was relaxing in anticipation of what she knew was about to come—namely her—he paused and lifted his head. Then he surprised her further by pushing the hair from her face and looking quite intently into her eyes.
“It just occurred to me. When you came by the station yesterday, was that right after you were at city hall?”
“Yes, but—”
He brushed his thumb over her lips, which made her hips arch, but did stop her from continuing to talk. “Did he really make you that uncomfortable? I’m not doubting you could take care of yourself, but it’s my job to make sure people can conduct business wherever they see fit and not be made to feel . . . infringed upon in any way.” He pressed his thumb down gently when she would have responded. “Let me finish. I wasn’t really completely forthcoming when I said that Teddy makes a competition out of things between us. Usually it’s town business . . . because I don’t give him any other avenues to try and beat me.”
Her eyes widened. She pressed a kiss to his thumb, then shifted her head so she could speak. “Are you saying that if he knows we’re . . . that he’ll come on to me as some kind of twisted game of—he’s married!”
“Yes, well, both Weathersbys are a bit . . . challenged . . . when it comes to being faithful to their vows.”
She was pretty sure her eyebrows couldn’t climb any higher. “This is common knowledge? Well, that explains a lot about him being so bold yesterday, but—wow. How does he expect to get anywhere in politics if—wait. Never mind. Gah. I guess if you’re open about it, it can’t be considered a black mark. Especially if wifey is on board with the whole thing.” Her mouth dropped open. “Do you know wifey? I mean, of course you do, but do you . . . you know . . .
know
her?”
“If you’re asking if I ever slept with Cami Weathersby—”
“I didn’t mean while she was married. I honestly didn’t—you don’t strike me as—I never thought—”
He stopped her with a kiss that was carnal and claiming.
She was pretty sure he didn’t know any other way, but there was something else there. Something that was just . . . honest and sincere and well . . . theirs.
“No,” he said, when he lifted his head, leaving her breathless all over again. “I haven’t. Before or during.” His smile was slow and sexy, more so because he was clearly tired and tousled. “And thanks for the vote of confidence. You’d be right, by the way. There’s a lot more to that story.”
He leaned in and nipped her bottom lip, making her gasp and wriggle under him. “Since you’re going to be here for a while, and I’m hoping that’s here in Blueberry and here”—he moved his hips on hers—“as well, you should probably know the history.” He found her hands, wove his fingers through hers, then slid their joined hands up over her head, stretching her taut beneath him, and taking full advantage of that position by nuzzling her head to the side so he had access to the sensitive skin along the side of her neck. “But I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Mmm,” she hummed. “Talk about what?” she asked, all innocent. She smiled as he nipped her earlobe and gasped in surprised pleasure when he rubbed his thumbs over the racing pulse point on her wrists.
“Exactly.” He left her hands resting over her head, and slid his warm, broad palms down her arms and along the sides of her torso, slowing long enough so that his thumbs took their sweet time rubbing over her tight nipples. She was still groaning and writhing as he stripped her naked and got himself the same way.
He was doing the most incredible things to a spot just above the inside of her ankle while his hands—his oh-so-clever hands—traveled back up her legs.
As she pressed her head back into the mattress and arched her hips up to meet his questing fingers, her last thought before her eyes rolled back in her head was
so, maybe this whole winging it thing might work out, after all.
Chapter 10
L
ogan closed his office door behind him and paused by Barb’s desk on his way to the station door. “Dan just radioed that he’s on his way in, so I’m going to head on out.”
Sergeant Benson’s smile was approving . . . and a bit too twinkly. “That makes a full week now that you’ve gotten out of here at a decent hour. Nice to see you’re finally getting a little balance. Sir,” she added when she caught his very direct gaze.
“I told you. Alex has scheduled meetings with the first round of subcontractors all this week. So I need to get out here before it gets dark.”
“She moves fast. I’m glad you’re helping her with that.” Barb’s expression remained the picture of innocence, but that twinkle in her eyes said otherwise.
Logan refused to bite. It was the only way he stood a chance. “She has a good way to go on the final report, but we’re in agreement on some of the basic needs on the exterior. She has received the results of the tests she had run, so I want to get going on them before we get any further into the winter season. By the time the weather really turns, I’ll know where I want to start on the interior.”
“Sounds like you two have found a pretty good rhythm.” She kept her smile steady. “Working together.”
Logan knew he was up against a pro, so there was no point in trying to glare her twinkle into submission. “We’ve got two appointments this evening, and the same tomorrow and Thursday. I want to be there to make sure we hire not only who’s best suited, but, in some cases, who I know needs the work.”
“I think that’s great. I know folks here are grateful for the work and you for looking out for their best interests. They tell me so all the time.”
“Nice to hear. Thanks.” He popped his hat on his head and zipped up his coat. “Any emergencies, you know where to find me.”
“Actually, sir.”
Logan ducked his chin, bit back a sigh, then turned back to face her. “Yes?”
“It’s Ted Weathersby.”
“Isn’t it always?”
She didn’t bite, either. She also knew better. “Yes, sir. He’s left three messages today asking me to remind you of the council meeting this evening.”
“I’m well aware. He’s been informed I won’t be attending. There isn’t any business on the docket that requires my input.”
“Not as police chief, but he’s going to talk about the Pelican Point restoration project. I know he’s asked Alex to be there, too.”
Logan’s gaze narrowed. “You know this because?”
“Because he made it a point to tell me he’d talked to her. Now, don’t go getting all bunched up over it,” she told him. “From what I’ve seen, Alex has absolutely no problem keeping him in check. In fact, if I knew her better, I’d swear she actually enjoys it.”
“How so?”
“She just doesn’t take any of his nonsense. You know how he is. She’s all smiles and polite as she can be, but he doesn’t gain so much as an inch with her.” Barb grinned. “Between you and me, it’s hard not to like that. Most folks feel pretty much the same about her, from what I’ve heard.”
“Most folks?”
“Well, you know how Cami Weathersby and her klatch can be. But generally, from what I hear, Alex is pretty well liked.” Barb reshuffled and restacked the folders on her desk. “I’m not saying it has anything to do with the way she stood up to you back when she first arrived in town, but then again, I’m not saying it didn’t.”
Logan also knew to sidestep a potential minefield altogether whenever possible. “If she has people’s respect, it’s because she deserves it. How do you know how she’s handling Weathersby? Or that she’s had to at all?”
“Well, I ran into her at Hartley’s the other day. She was chatting up Owen, asking him stories about the house and the tower. You know how much he loves our town history. They were bonding over kerosene lamp generators and something about iron lanterns or some such. I gather they were talking about the lighthouse. Anyway, I was over on the feed store side picking up that newfangled kind of kitty litter he got in. Looks like little blue and tan beads or something. I was skeptical, but do you know that stuff is downright amazing? I mean, you just dump it out and it takes care of its own—”
“I’m sure it does. Weathersby?”
“Right. Well, he came in while Owen was ringing me up and Alex was right there, still chatting, and you know Ted, never saw a conversation he couldn’t make all about himself. He started going on about how glad he was to see you were finally taking all of his advice on the restoration project and how Alex should consult with him on the work she plans to hire out as he knows everybody who is anybody. Insinuated he might even call in some special favors, help her out, if she was, you know, nudge-nudge, interested. You know how he is.”
Logan felt the muscles in his cheeks flex. “I do, indeed.”
Barb kept her tone light and gossipy, but Logan didn’t miss the way her gaze latched right on to his, alert to so much as a flicker in his expression. To look at her, it would be quite easy to believe she was just a guileless grandmother of six, unless you knew she’d also been a police officer for more than half her life—which translated to almost all of everyone else’s life—meaning she likely knew more about every last person in town than even their closest kinfolk did.
“Alex wasn’t having any of that,” Barb went on. “Smiled, pretty as you please, and put him in his place in a way that made him not quite sure he’d heard her just right. She’d said her good-byes and was pulling out of the side lot before Ted realized he’d just been set down by a pro. You know what I mean?”
Logan had expected to be pissed off by wherever the story was headed. Instead, he found a smile kicking at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, I believe I do.”
“She’s something. A fresh breath, that’s for sure.” Barb’s smile was well on the knowing side even when he finally narrowed his brows. “Not that we needed one. Sir.”
He didn’t miss the smile that hovered as she went back to stacking files.
And she didn’t try to hide it. “Did you ever get hold of Kerry?”
“Two voice mails and a text message saying she’d call later this week. We keep missing each other. I think she must be guiding a trip or something. Have you heard anything? I haven’t had the chance to call Fi, but—”
“Fiona hasn’t talked to Kerry, either, but said if she got through before you did, she’d call.”
“Good. Keep me in the loop, okay?”
“I always do.” Barb’s smile was affectionate when she added, “Sir.”
His smile softened then, too. Their partnership was long and enduring, but while he had to be on his toes pretty much every second or she would run more roughshod over him and the rest of the station than she already did, he honestly didn’t know what he’d do without her. Professionally or personally.
“Okay, I’m out of here. Who’s on the desk tonight? Is Velma back?”
“No, she’s still down in Philly. I set up a rotation to cover for her. She’ll be back next week.” Barb smiled. “New grandbaby. You can’t blame her for taking a little sick leave along with her paid leave.”
“No, you can’t. I can’t recall when she’s ever taken a sick day. Put the paperwork on my desk.” Velma Simon had been on the night desk for eighteen years, still a rookie compared to Barb. She’d been around longer than Logan had been on the force, and he had great respect for her abilities and work ethic. “I’ll sign off on it.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Barb beamed and picked up the folder on the top of the pile on her desk. “Already taken care of, sir.”
Logan smiled as he gave a slight shake with his head. “Thanks. Tell Dan when he gets in to check with Owen about that problem he had last week with the back entrance to his store. Someone definitely tried to jimmy the lock. He replaced it, but he’s talking about putting up a camera or some such. Motion detector. I don’t know. Apparently Dan’s uncle is in the home security business in Bangor. Maybe he can give him some basic ideas that won’t cost too much.”
“Good. Great. I know Owen will feel better if he does something. You know he’s been kinda jumpy as, well, as a raccoon on Mrs. Darby’s porch, ever since Lauren went off to college in the fall.”
Logan gave her a mild look at the Darby reference, but she didn’t so much as blink.
“He worries about her being so far away, such a big campus, big city. Between you and me,” Barb added, “I don’t think he has the first idea what to do with that empty nest of his. I think that’s why he spends all his time at the store these days.”
“I’m not sure I’d be any better at handling either one. I remember how it felt when I got back from college and Fi left for school, then Kerry took off for parts south and west. And I was just the older brother. Owen raised Lauren by himself, so it’s a pretty big transition.” Logan made a mental note to stop by and see Owen. Barb’s previous comments had reminded him what a lighthouse buff Owen was, so maybe getting him out to the Point when they finally went inside the tower would be something of a much needed distraction for him.
“He mentioned that Lauren wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving next week, staying to study for midterms or some such, he said. I know he was pretty disappointed about that. But I heard she’ll be back in a few weeks for winter break, so that’ll cheer him up some.”
Logan smiled. “Good. That’s good. I’d better get on the road.”
“Have you made plans yet?”
“Plans?”
Barb sighed. “Thanksgiving. Just a little more than a week away? Are the girls coming home?”
“Well, I’m guessing no for Kerry, and Fi said she’s got a new client who’s pretty demanding, but will be great for word of mouth, so she’s out. Hannah . . . I hope she comes up, but it sounded doubtful in her last e-mail. Some case she was trying that looks like it’s going to run through the holidays. She said she’d let me know.”
“You cooking?”
He smiled. “You kidding?”
She laughed. “I hear Alex knows her way around a stove. Delia said Alex gave her an idea on how to do something different with her meatballs. Maybe you two could sweet-talk her into keeping you from eating frozen dinners and watching football at the Puffin like you did last year. And the one before that, if I recall correctly. Pitiful, if you ask me, especially when anybody in town would be happy to have you at their table. Shouldn’t spend Thanksgiving alone.”
“I didn’t. I was with family. Was a nice day off, is how I remember it.” He lifted both hands in surrender when she fixed him with a stare. “But I’ll take it into consideration. Maybe we’ll see if Owen wants to join us.”
“Well, now isn’t that just the nicest idea.” Her expression softened instantly into one of pride and appreciation.
Deciding to cut out while he was ahead, Logan nodded. “See you tomorrow.”
But he had only made it two steps when the station door opened and in sailed Cami Weathersby. Petite, blond, always dressed smartly, with hair done and makeup applied so masterfully, he’d always thought she could easily be the stand-in at a wax museum and no one would ever tell the difference.
“Chief McCrae, I need a minute of your time.” She wasn’t asking. Camille Winstock Weathersby never asked. She informed . . . for as far back as he could remember. And they went as far back as two people could go. They’d shared the same nursery school teacher.
Logan swallowed the urge to use very unprofessional language and merely gestured to his office. She stalked past him—Cami was a champion stalker, something to do with the fact that she always had heels on, probably even back in nursery school—and breezed right into his office as if she owned it. In Cami’s mind, that applied to pretty much anyplace she chose to inhabit. Of course, given how much of the town her family owned, more times than not, she probably did.
Logan shared a look with his desk sergeant, who rolled her eyes as if to say,
That one. What are you going to do?
But Logan knew the one person who was well aware of Cami’s dual nature when it came to him was also the very same one seated outside his office door. And he was ever so grateful for it.
“Thirty seconds?” Barb asked, meaning how long was she to wait before buzzing him with an “emergency.”
“No need.” He’d had enough of both Weathersbys. Cami had picked the wrong day to play whatever her new game was going to be about.
He entered the room, left the door open, and walked around to his side of the desk. He didn’t sit. “I was just heading out. What can I do for you?”
“It’s about this restoration business,” she said, the words clipped, clear disapproval in her tone—which was exactly how she played it anytime there were other ears listening in.
He watched her debate on whether or not he’d let her get away with closing the door, but apparently one look at his expression had her opting to leave it open. Smart choice. But then, Cami was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.
Designer purse dangling from one arm, she clasped her hands in front of her in a deceptively polite demeanor, keeping her shoulders squared, chin level as she spoke. But with her back to Barb, she let her gaze wander up and down his body like a jungle cat looking for its next meal.
When Logan had first come home from college and joined the Cove’s police force, she’d already been engaged to Teddy. She had taken great pains to make it clear to any and everyone in town that she held Logan responsible for the death of her best friend and future maid of honor, Jessica. She’d also made it clear to him in private that she’d be quite willing to listen if he was of a mind to persuade her to forgive him. If it involved maybe ripping her sensible little dress off of her body, all the better.
Her aggressive and confusing game used to disconcert and unsettle him, not to mention piss him off. But he’d always known, at core, the player was a viper. He’d also known better than to confront her. The Winstocks had been wheeling and dealing in the Cove forever, not as long as the McCraes or the Monaghans, but far longer than Weathersby’s kin and most everyone else’s. They’d made their fortune early, invested it wisely; in addition to owning their fair share of the Cove, they had been one of its wealthier and therefore more politically influential families for more generations than most could recall.